“Well, guys, we’ve done it. Let’s get this party started!”
The room laughed hard at Treeborne’s joke. But little did they know, thought Aswa-da, that the last laugh would be on them.
And the rest of humanity.
Chapter 47
The man Lotte had seen continued up the steps. In his hands was a large cardboard box. His uniform clearly displayed his FedEx courier identity. Kinley and Angela both read the man’s badge, and breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.
“Dr. Kinley?” questioned the courier, looking from husband to the wife. In his job, suggesting the Dr. in question was a man was tantamount to discrimination. He’d heard of colleagues being almost sued for just such a suggestion. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake.
“Yes,” answered Kinley quickly, his face anxious and very tense.
“I’ve a delivery for you.”
“From?” asked Kinley with uncharacteristic abruptness, and he blocked the courier’s entry to the hall.
“The Antique Toy Store, Cambridge, Massachusetts,” stated the courier, reading from the label.
“Lotte’s doll house,” exclaimed Angela.
She regretted her outburst as her daughter jumped up and down screaming, “My present! My present. Open it. Open it!”
The courier held out the box awkwardly and muttered, “Could someone take this? I’ve got a dozen more deliveries before lunch, and I ain’t gonna get them done standing on this doorstep.”
Kinley grabbed the box from the courier and maneuvered back from the front door into the hall. Amid the persistent calls from Lotte to open it, Kinley looked at his watch and then at his daughter. He shook his head.
“We haven’t got time for this.”
But his daughter’s smiling face, full of anticipation and blissfully ignorant to the mad dash they were soon going to have to make to stay alive, made him tear open the box.
Lotte cried out, “Show me, Daddy.”
Pulling back the flaps of the box, Kinley disturbed a thin layer of dust. He wiped it away and reached inside. As he pulled out the contents, Angela could see the Victorian doll house Kinley had ordered for their daughter’s birthday. She smiled at her husband as he placed the doll house on the hall table.
Lotte was now squealing with delight.
“I love it! Let me play with it!”
Kinley touched the toy delicately. He slid his hand down the roof, searching for the catch that would release the front and open the house. He knew they had no time for indulgence of the kind he was engaging in, but he felt sorry for Lotte and her birthday celebrations that would, for now, have to be put on hold. Finding the catch, Kinley flicked it and the front section swung out on its hinges.
“There you are, darling. That’s yours. But you can’t play with it until Sunday, for that’s when your birthday is,” explained Angela in a sympathetic but firm voice. She had already realized that the doll house, along with everything else they owned, would have to be left behind. Kinley nodded thanks to his wife for skillfully managing Lotte’s emotions.
“We’ve really got to get going,”
Kinley’s tone touched with gentle finality. Angela understood, and grabbed hold of Lotte and her bag. Kinley dropped his hand down to collect his briefcase, and noticed a thin veneer of grey dust across the tips of his fingers.
“They could have cleaned it before sending it,” muttered Kinley, almost to himself, and he patted the dust away.
Subconsciously, he checked his hands again, but the dust was still there. As he watched, the few specks on his fingertips seemed to be spreading over his hands. He dropped his briefcase and rubbed nervously against his thighs. But the dust didn’t come off. Kinley watched, terrified and fascinated, as the dust moved up to his wrists of its own accord. Frantic to be clean, he rubbed furiously against his jacket, trousers, and finally, the wall. The dust carried on oblivious, working its way up Kinley’s arm.
Angela watched his manic behavior. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
Kinley ripped open his shirt and saw the grey dust creeping across his shoulders and chest. He looked down, staring deep into the grey that had taken over his torso. It was then that he saw something glittery move quickly within the dust.
“The dust,” screamed Kinley, shaking. “There’s something in the dust.”
Chapter 48
“This is going to put us back where we belong. Back on top. Screwing the world again. God, I love that position. Wow-ee, boy! Al Nadir won’t know what’s hit ‘em. And that fucking Chinese president had better show me some decent manners next time we meet.”
The US president’s words were the culmination of an experiment that had taken over his life. He had followed each test with the diligence of an attentive parent. From the moment his CSO had called, Treeborne had taken a special interest in his new technology. The CSO had been sworn to secrecy as to where the technology had originated. Even if he had revealed it came from the president, no one would have believed him. The CSO didn’t even believe it himself and he’d heard the contents of the Dictaphone with his own ears.
The president knew this, but just to make sure the CSO’s lips stayed shut, Treeborne put two SS officers on his detail. They shadowed the CSO. Every move he made, they monitored, and once the tests were successful and Project David (as the weapons program was called) had built its own internal momentum, the CSO was removed and disposed of swiftly in the traditional fashion.
No one seemed too concerned by the disappearance of the president’s CSO. A resignation letter had been found stating “a need for change,” and that was the end of it. Everyone was whipped up in the implications of the new weapon and what it meant for the USA.
After his profound statement, the president looked at Frank Weitz, his defense secretary, who stood next to him for the final test demonstration. Weitz smiled but maintained his mute stance. The two of them stood in silence at the secret location in Blacksburg in Virginia, some four hours away from DC, and watched as a military scientist brought a container with a miniscule deposit of the strange, stretchable compound the president had found in the box.
The scientist took out the pen and aimed it at the small dot in the container. The military scientist nodded to the president, defense secretary and assembled five-star generals, and ran at speed, away from the container. The president and Weitz were at a distance from the container but both could still see the bright flash shining like the birth of a new star for a second in the container.
Within thirty seconds, the ground beneath them shook as if an earthquake happened nearby, and the air around them electrified and sparked, as a charge ripped through the upper atmosphere. The president smiled smugly. He knew what was coming. He turned sideways to watch Weitz’s reaction. But his defense secretary remained motionless.
The breeze stilled and a whisper of expectancy wafted through the air, touching their skin. Weitz shivered but held his ground. He stared at the container. As he watched, the reality around him splintered, twisted and fragmented.
“What the hell?” started the defense secretary, stepping back instinctively.
“Don’t worry, Frank. It’s all part of the demo.”
Treeborne barely flinched as the air above the container exploded. A veil of silvery particles spread out across his field of view. The particles reflected bits of ground and sky, and melded both together in a crazy kaleidoscope of shattered color.
“What is this? What am I seeing here?” asked Weitz.
“Our future, Frank. Our beautiful new future,” answered Treeborne, smiling.
The particles hung in the air, suspended in the fabric of space-time for a few seconds. Amongst the fragments of sky and ground, the president thought he could see a facet of utter darkness. Deep and cold like the night sky. And in these dark fragments something grew. Treeborne could feel it, an angry storm gathering, its energies building rapidly, an invisible force of immense power.
Around the container, the ground shook
violently. The president, defense secretary and small clique of generals and military scientists jumped in unison as a massive clap of thunder broke in the sky above them. It took Treeborne a few seconds of listening before he realized that the thunder wasn’t just above them; it was all around them and beneath them. The Earth was howling, a tortured victim screaming out in abject pain.
Weitz listened and shivered. He’d never heard thunder like it before. Although it was just a sound, it possessed a physical connection that touched him. The connection pulled him in. It forced him to feel compassion, to understand injustice, and to know the hurt that his country had caused. Tears pricked his eyes and he refused to wipe them away.
The president watched Weitz’s eyes. Such a weak man, he thought. How could he possibly cry at a time when America’s new dominance beckoned?
The last thunder strike shrieked, and a huge wave rippled out from the center of the container, catching fragmented particles in its path. On contact with the wave, the particles obliterated, leaving a deep crater where the container had been.
Reality was back to normal. The sky was above. The ground was below. Nothing remained shattered. Except Frank Weitz’s mind.
He slowly turned to the president, visibly shaking. His bravado had stripped away as the wave stopped a meter short of him. Visions of his own annihilation brought out a scared humility in him.
“So, Frank, what d’ya say? Now’s the time to renegotiate that Chinese loan. Say around zero per cent. What d’ya think?”
Weitz looked out at the blast site, the scorched Earth still strewn with tiny flames flickering in the gentle breeze, and he feared for their “beautiful future.”
Chapter 49
Aswa-da recalled the moment two Earth weeks before when he’d left the quantum bomb in Treeborne’s private lounge. The box he’d created was simple. It was a brown box, ordinary looking, almost like a shoe box. But the absence of anything other than the three words made it intriguing.
At first, Aswa-da had written ‘FOR SUCCESS’. But then he realized it wasn’t sufficient. It wasn’t anyone’s success, but Treeborne’s. Aswa-da created the box again and added a personal touch. ‘FOR YOUR SUCCESS’ was targeted directly to hit Treeborne’s psyche.
It was a personal signal that salvation was close.
With the quantum compound bomb inside the box, Aswa-da had shimmered into Treeborne’s lounge.
Shimmering was the means of transportation all Kudamaz elders had. It was an ability given to the Kudamaz elders by the Ancient Ones, and involved eleventh-dimensional space-time. Kudamaz elders had only to think of a location, where they wanted to be, then focus their minds and they’d shimmer to that place.
Aswa-da visualized Treeborne’s lounge and shimmered into it. Treeborne hadn’t returned and Aswa-da solidified into Earth’s reality plane completely. He placed the box on the sofa then moved away.
Voices came up quickly outside the door. Aswa-da stepped zero-point-one degrees out of Earth reality and watched Treeborne shout at his private secretary, swearing at the man’s incompetence. Then the president lurched himself towards a large bottle of bourbon. Treeborne sat down on the sofa. Aswa-da watched as Treeborne jumped a little, and went for his mobile, and then stopped and stared at the box.
Then Treeborne leant forward and picked up the box. Aswa-da snuck in close to examine his expression, and his long robe touched Treeborne’s ear. Being zero-point-one degree out of Earth’s reality plane, Treeborne shouldn’t have discerned Aswa-da’s movement, but Treeborne turned directly in Aswa-da’s direction. On Treeborne’s face was complete puzzlement as he tried to figure out what he’d felt.
Watching Treeborne, Aswa-da realized he had to be careful. The man had been changed, albeit slightly, but nevertheless, still changed. He wasn’t a simple human anymore. He was attuned to a Kudamaz resonance within the sandstone tablet. Clearly, the change to his DNA had made Treeborne a little more sensitive to Kudamaz encounters, even if those encounters were hidden by being zero-point-one degrees out of Earth’s reality.
Treeborne sat on the sofa, playing with the contents of the box. Aswa-da was fascinated by his behavior. He observed as Treeborne prodded and pulled at the compound and brought the pen over to touch it.
Better give the idiot some guidance, thought Aswa-da. He touched Treeborne’s head and delivered his instructions.
“Pick up the Dictaphone, switch it on, listen to me and repeat it directly.”
Aswa-da delivered his knowledge bank packet on how the quantum bomb worked directly to Treeborne, using his mind and mouth as a device to transmit the knowledge to the Dictaphone.
Aswa-da knew that such an engagement would weaken Treeborne greatly. After the president gave the Dictaphone to his CSO, Aswa-da placed Treeborne into a deep and rejuvenating sleep.
Caught up in Treeborne’s past, Aswa-da failed to realize when something incredible was happening in his future. He pushed forward to March 22, 2017, the live Earth date, to Blacksburg, Virginia in the US. The scene on the Observation Screen showed Treeborne standing in a field with Defense Secretary Frank Weitz and several military generals.
The field in front of them was vast. Aswa-da watched someone, presumably a military scientist, as he could see his uniform beneath the white coat, stride out into the field holding a transparent container. Inside, he saw a gray small lump of something that he knew to be the quantum compound bomb. Aswa-da twirled his finger and the Observation Room was overwritten with a damp field and greying skies.
Next to him stood the military scientist. He placed the transparent container with the quantum compound bomb onto a high pedestal. Then he stepped away and took out the pen that formed the other half of the bomb’s system. The scientist stepped back further as he seemed to know what the effects would be.
Tentatively, he stuck out his hand and aimed the pen at the non-descript gray lump. Inside the gray lump, a light built fast. The scientist nodded and ran away at speed as a bright flash leapt out of the container. Aswa-da marveled at the magnificence of the light. It shone brighter than Earth’s sun as the curled-up quantum energies rushed forth into linking mechanism and connected with the reality plane. Aswa-da knew the energies were everywhere at the quantum level. The spark of light was just the initial reaction. It was the unleashing of the energies through the quantum world into the universal reality plane that created the electrified feeling in the atmosphere and made the ground shake.
These energies were part of the makeup of the Earth and should not have been unleashed. Aswa-da smirked. Or that’s what the Order of Kudamun demanded.
But he never was one to heed many rules.
Aswa-da watched as the tug of war between the quantum and real worlds resulted in reality fragmenting and splintering, and the Earth howled in pain at this forbidden desecration. Aswa-da could feel the energies building up into a massive crescendo. He smiled, watching the energies as they flooded in a wave from the small gray lump and out across the field in front of Treeborne, Weitz and the generals. The instant the wave touched the reality fragments, it exploded, leaving a jagged crater several meters in diameter.
Aswa-da walked over to Treeborne and looked into his eyes. Hubris and arrogance shone within. He could see the blood-thirsty dominance that radiated through the president. Aswa-da turned to take in the other onlookers with Treeborne. Weitz was a man truly terrified by what he had witnessed. The generals were dumbfounded but grateful. Aswa-da recognized that they knew the power the US now had with the quantum compound bomb.
A unanimous thought rumbled through all the generals’ minds and Aswa-da could see it glowing in their rabid eyes.
Soon they would be watching Al Nadir’s final days.
Chapter 50
At the Terrace, the banter and innuendo between ‘friends’ instantly stopped as Richard Ashton, UK Prime Minister, walked into the room. The five men rose to their feet as a sign of respect. The PM patted the air and they returned to their seats.
Ashton
scanned the room, detecting a glimmer of tension, and then seated himself at the top of the table.
Intelligent and street-smart, Ashton was also immoral and unscrupulous. The heart of his powerbase was a deep and intricate web of surveillance that infiltrated and investigated everyone around him. That intelligence was then analyzed, and anyone deemed to be a potential threat to him politically or personally was catalogued and kept on hold. Every vice, every secret, every skeleton in the closet of his colleagues, he knew about it. And he used this knowledge when his colleagues became “problematic.” Even the media were bullied by his security team to portray him as the ultimate family man, a man balancing the weight of a nation against the pressures of fatherhood. It was an image that made him more vulnerable, and therefore, more accessible to his public. The reality was somewhat different.
Ashton was insatiable, bedding anyone who attracted him. If his bedfellows had thoughts of Sunday paper kiss-and-tell exposes, these ideas were quickly banished, as each one was advised in brutal terms of the consequences of such exposure. So far, none had put the threats to the test.
Chapter 51
Angela Kinley stared at her husband’s chest, and then screamed. It was an involuntary reaction. Lotte, on seeing her father’s strange grey skin, also started to scream. Angela stopped her outburst immediately and put on a calm voice to comfort her child.
“Lotte, darling, it’s ok. Everything’s going to be ok.”
There was no term of reference for what she was witnessing. No description could explain why grey, household dust had taken over her husband’s body. Angela held Lotte close, stroking her hair until the little girl’s cries subsided.
“Can you see them?” yelled Kinley, pointing at his body. “Do you see them moving? They’re like silver fish. Oh God, Angie. You’ve got to get them off me.”
“I…I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
The Trusted Page 14
